


Falling In Love At A Coffeeshop

by tinyelectricguitar



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barista Sokka, Businessman Zuko, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, zukka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyelectricguitar/pseuds/tinyelectricguitar
Summary: Sometimes really bad (truly terrible) tea can be an aphrodisiac. Sokka hopes so at least.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 156





	1. Red Eye

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished ATLA and I love both these dumbfucks so much I had to get back into fanfiction for them. Please let me know what you think!!! 
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr at tinyelectricguitar.tumblr.com where I am always down to chat/discuss Zukka conspiracy theories/AUs.

It takes 50 espresso shots to kill a person. This was a fact that Sokka was intimately aware of. Katara hadn't been moved by this argument, though, when she had (unsuccessfully) tried to pry away his second red-eye coffee of the night before clocking out. 

Needless to say, the usual argument had ensued—

Katara would get into her mother-hen mode and insisted that whatever new coping mechanism Sokka was trying out this time was 'going to kill him'. He would pull a page off Google Scholar to prove that _well, actually, Katara,_ it wasn’t going to _kill_ him, (bad decision, though it probably was). She would turn her patented concerned, vaguely disappointed look on him and leave him to it. 

He had swallowed down the pang of guilt, hugged her goodbye and then downed the rest of the effective, if not delicious drink. And turned back to the textbooks. 

It wasn’t easy studying for engineering finals while holding down double shifts at his sister’s café to pay his way through a double masters. But Sokka was never one to back down from a challenge. Unfortunately for all his friends, he was one to complain. Loudly. And frequently. 

Usually, while he was working at _The Coffee Benders,_ he had to dial his rambling back, put his textbooks down, and worst of all, actually _serve customers._ That’s why he loved graveyard shifts. At 12 am on a Friday night _,_ when their usual college crowd was off puking into bushes on the other side of town, he was nothing more than a glorified security guard _._ And considering the Starbucks one block down had more and shinier stuff to steal, Sokka was pretty confident that no one would interrupt his revision. 

Which is why it was _completely reasonable thankyouverymuch_ for him to jump a foot in the air at the tinkling sound of the door opening. His (very manly) shriek reverberated around the empty café for a moment, causing the intruder to startle too (though considerably more gracefully than himself). 

“Jesus, is that how you welcome a customer?” the stranger snapped. 

Oh great, another one of those rude, executive types. Sokka took the time to cast a judgemental glance over the man that had walked in before responding. A suit - black, clearly expensive - with shoes to match, and floppy hair that cast strange shadows over a pale, irritated face. 

_The Coffee Benders’_ usual clientele couldn’t be more different than this high powered guy. College students wearing moccasins and carrying _New Yorker_ totes were more their speed. Corporate types like _him_ usually preferred the Starbucks, fittingly. He and his suit (Armani? Prada? Sokka wouldn’t know either if they skinned him to make a belt) stuck out of the cosy room like a sore, very sleek, thumb. 

“What can I get you. _”_ he said flippantly, not trying very hard to keep the irritation out of his voice. 

The man finally approached the counter, flooding his face with light from one of the few lamps Sokka had left on (or risk Katara’s tirades about ' _do you think we can summon electricity from free out of thin air Sokka?!'_ ). 

“Do you have any, uh—“ he paused, scanning the chalkboard menu over Sokka’s shoulder for a long moment. 

A long moment that Sokka soaked up once seeing the man’s face in the light made him realise that holy fuck, the asshole in the suit was _hot._ He was younger than his attire (and entitlement) made him seem. His pale face seemed to glow in the dimly lit room. Unruly dark hair flopped into dark-circle smudged eyes so light brown they looked like molten gold. And - _oh._ What Sokka had from afar assumed was just a weird shadow was a scar. A pink scar, clearly old, that stretched from his left eye across his face towards his temple where the hair obscured it again. It seemed to make sense, though, on his face. 

To avoid staring, Sokka cleared his throat. No matter how attractive the man was, or how interesting he looked, Sokka had to serve him and return to his textbook _pronto._

“Do you guys only have green tea?” his voice sounded hoarse, tired. Either from disuse or screaming, and looking at his grim face, Sokka wouldn’t have known which one to bet on. 

“I mean, we’re called _The_ _Coffee Benders_ , man, tea isn’t really huge.”

“Right, uh, sorry.” 

Sokka decided he wasn't imagining the extra apology in the words and decided to forgive the very tired looking man before him this one time. And _no_ , it did not have anything to do with how hot he was. 

“Anyway, it’s not like there are many alternatives at this hour.” 

And what was that supposed to mean? Sokka's wondering must have shown on his face because the man backtracked almost immediately. 

“Not that I, uh, I mean, this place is—I just like tea? Could I please have some green tea?” he ended weakly. 

Ah, there was nothing Sokka loved more than talking to another rambler. 

“Sure, I’ll have to hunt a little bit, no one else really—“ he trailed off, somewhat disappointed as he saw that the other man had turned his attention to his phone. 

Sokka willed some of the derision from earlier to rise up again, but only vague embarrassment came. He turned to the cardboard boxes under the counter, rooting through them more violently than strictly necessary. 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying? Things have just been really busy lately and I really can’t afford to miss an email right now." 

Sokka glanced at him, peaking up slowly from behind the counter (not a ridiculous look at all), and he did look sorry. Anyway, Sokka was almost as bad at staying mad as at staying silent. 

“Who’s emailing you right now, man? Isn’t that like, illegal?” he said, following it with a triumphant cry as he found the dusty box of Tetley tea bags. 

“I wish. No there’s, this new merger. And, well. Things are just really stressful for everyone right now. I have to prove myself.” the tiredness seemed to become tinged with desperation towards the end of his sentence. 

And as soon as he said the last part, his face closed off, like he’d very much like the floor to swallow him up. Sokka itched to put his hand comfortingly over the other man’s (with its long, pianist fingers) which rested on the counter. He resisted. Barely. (He was a tactile guy, okay, sue him!). He set some water to boil. 

“Hey, dude, I’m sure you will. You care—that counts for a lot.” 

The stranger looked at him gratefully before wrinkling his nose a little (adorably)— “Don’t call me dude.”

“Well, what should I, then?” Sokka replied, barely holding back from adding an only half-mocking _sweetheart._ He did not want another one of Katara’s customer service talks (the angriest he’s ever heard anyone say 'Service with a smile!'). 

The man’s eyes darted away from Sokka’s own before he replied— “Zuko. I mean—that’s my name.” he added awkwardly. 

“Yeah, I figured, _Zuko_ ” he said, mocking him familiarly, affectionately. 

“How insightful of you, _Sokka._ ” the man replied, in a similar tone. 

Sokka was turned around, trying to pour the tea into a charmingly mismatched (read: thrift store) porcelain teacup without burning himself. Which meant _Zuko_ must have read and remembered his name tag from before. Huh. Nice. 

“One cup of our best, flaming hot, green tea!” Sokka slung the cup across the counter (where Zuko was still standing) triumphantly. 

Zuko looked suspiciously at the green tea sloshing in its little mug, eyeing the teabag with carefully veiled disgust. His eyes flicked up to find Sokka beaming at him expectantly. He lifted the cup to his lips as gingerly as if it were filled with poison. 

Sokka was grateful for the steam rising from the cup, obscuring Zuko's vision, as he stared shamelessly at his lips. Pursed, blowing delicately on the rippling surface of the muddy liquid. He was trying very hard not to let his imagination run wild with those pursed lips or what else they could be blowing. He didn't have long, though, before Zuko's perfect face screwed up (adorably, of course) like Sokka had poisoned him. 

“How…is it?” he ventured. 

Zuko really wanted to lie to him, he really tried, but just before he could choke out a "Not bad." he caught the bitter aftertaste of very old, very stale _teabag_ leaves and his face screwed up again. 

He seemed almost baffled by the tea, which he was goggling at when he said: “It’s just not good.” 

Sokka winced. “Sorry about that. Um. I make a really good cup of coffee I promise! If you want to try that.” 

Zuko eyed the cold sludge in Sokka’s Pokémon mug (all that remained of the lethal red-eye, and it was _not_ better cold). Sokka was grateful his skin allowed him to blush in peace. 

Gently, Zuko said, “It’s probably too late for caffeine, anyway. Thank you, though, Sokka. What do I owe you?”

With all his energy focused on keeping the disappointment out of his voice, he replied “On the house. Least I can do after I _poisoned_ you.” 

“Hey, it wasn’t _that—“_ he cut himself off with a small, small huff of laughter as Sokka shot him a flat look. 

“You’re a coffee shop after all, and you tried. Thanks, really.” he said with a small smile. It made all of Sokka’s disappointment vanish and be replaced only with an absolute _need_ to see this strange businessman again. 

“No problemo. If you decide to come back, though,” he waggled his eyebrows “I promise I’ll redeem myself. You won’t be-leaf it’s the same barista.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes, but the small smile stayed. “See you, Sokka.” 

“See you, Zuko.” 

It was several moments after Zuko left that Sokka came back to himself. And when he did he realised several important things: 

Firstly, Zuko had an amazing ass underneath those black slacks. 

Secondly, who says _“no problemo”_ ??? He was the biggest idiot of all time, Zuko was never going to come back, especially after Sokka _poisoned_ him with his inferior tea. Zuko probably drank some fancy expensive tea out of non-thrift store cups at fancy, expensive stores with baristas that didn’t make dumb tea puns. 

Thirdly, Zuko had turned back to him for a brief second before he finally leaving, shooting him another small (if tired) smile. _And he had said see you soon._

Leave it to Sokka to get so invested in some random suit ten minutes after he walked in, snapped at Sokka and insulted his tea. He probably wasn’t even into dudes, and even if he was, they would be fancy dudes (who didn’t make dumb tea puns). But Zuko had smiled his little smile and said _see you soon._

Of course, this would be the one moment in his life his cruel brain would turn him into an optimist. 

He shook his head, willing his textbook's words to replace the golden eyes in his brain. He didn’t notice the 20 dollars in the tip jar. 


	2. Cinnamon Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet, spicy tea.  
> Warm, open smiles.  
> Surprises - the good kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter has taken so long! But I do have many fun things planned for the future of The Coffee Benders. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at tinyelectricguitar.tumblr.com where I am always down to talk/discuss Zukka AUs!

“Are you reading or just frowning at your textbooks?” Aang asked, letting himself into the café early to start baking. 

“I can multitask!” Sokka replied indignantly. 

He groaned as he saw the sky beginning to tinge with blue. Normally, the soft morning sun was his favourite part of the graveyard shift. Its soft light making his walk home, and even his disastrous apartment look welcoming and even beautiful. Today though, it was just an unwelcome reminder that another night of revision had passed him by. It had been another stupid Thursday night, and thanks to finals week, the place had been crawling with undergrads itching for refills every ten minutes. 

Being busy wasn’t all bad, though. It had helped distract from his constant nail-biting worry about his scholarship application. And maybe also from the tiny rollercoaster of hope and disappointment he had been on for the last week, waiting for Zuko to walk in again. 

Normally, even Sokka wouldn’t care this much about someone he'd spoken to _once,_ but well, he may have taken things too far this time. He shook his head, trying to dislodge his embarrassment at the little box that hid under the counter, far out of Katara’s reach. Guess he’d never get to use it now. 

“If you stop frowning and go home and sleep, I’ll bring you a muffin later!” Aang sing-songed at him. Damn him for knowing Sokka so well. 

“You win this one, you little bald baking genius.” he half-muttered, oozing off his stool and out onto the street. 

His day passed in a blur of sleep, afternoon classes, and a blueberry muffin. (Hiring Aang as their baker had been a rare moment where Katara’s genius overtook even Sokka’s). Before long, Sokka found himself walking back in the dying autumn light to _The Coffee Benders._

He went through his usual motions of refilling and inventory mindlessly, happily noting that just a few armchairs were full. Seemed that the Friday night rule held up even the weekend before finals. He could actually focus, finishing 3 units before 1:30 when his concentration betrayed him. 

Of course, in his brain, Sokka knew that he was an idiot. Just because it was almost 2 am on a Friday again didn’t mean Zuko was going to magically appear like some kind of formal, grumpy Cinderella. He hadn’t shown up all week and clearly, since he had never been to the café in the past 2 years, last week was an anomaly. 

He promised himself he was going to throw out that wretched box before his shift ended. He forced himself to turn back to his book in a valiant attempt to retain his last shred of dignity. (Which, in hindsight, he had probably lost in The Great Cactus Juice Incident of last year). 

Which is why he couldn’t be blamed for almost jumping out of his skin, _yet again,_ when a certain someone cleared his throat at the counter. 

His eyes widened comically and his mouth dropped open unattractively before he managed to squeak out: “How can I Zuko you? I mean, how can I help you? Zuko?” 

The Famous Small Smile made a glorious comeback (his coffee-addled memory of the real thing did _not_ do it justice). 

“Hey, Sokka.”

This was seriously unfair. Normally, Sokka would have managed to pull his foot out of his mouth by now, but Zuko looked criminally good. Unlike the fancy suit and scowl of last time, he was wearing a soft, soft grey sweatshirt and worn black jeans, all topped off with his small smile and oh so tired eyes. 

Sokka was just about to open his mouth and do or say something probably embarrassing, undoubtedly inappropriate when two things happened at the same time. Zuko’s phone began to vibrate violently and the girl behind him cleared her throat loudly in annoyance. 

The other man’s smile fell off his face, replaced with the same cold mask as their first meeting. He waved the girl ahead, stepping to the side. 

To say that only half of Sokka’s attention was on making her espresso was generous. He was sure his ears had perked up like a dog’s with how intensely he was trying to eavesdrop. (He wasn’t being creepy, he was just a curious guy, sue him!)

He could pick out only a few words that Zuko was almost hissing into his phone: “It’s not a waste of time…not like I'm sidelining normal work…environmental regulation…Azula _…_ focus on your own work.” 

God, he hoped his new crush (there was really no denying it anymore) wasn't a fucking _oil magnate_ or something — Aang would start a picket line in his daydreams. 

Finally, Zuko hung up the phone with a long-suffering sigh. 

“Isn’t there some kind of law that protects people from having to use Blackberrys after 9 pm?” Sokka quipped. 

Zuko looked at him with a guarded expression, as though weighing him before admitting: “Not when you’re the CEO’s son.” 

Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded like bragging, maybe even a deeply dubious pick-up line. But from the guy in front of him, Sokka’s age probably, but already with slightly sunken cheekbones, a deeply furrowed brow and major eye-bags, it was anything but. 

For once in his life, Sokka paused to choose his words, keeping his tone light but gentle, “That sounds like a lot of pressure, Jesus…No wonder you look like you haven’t slept in a hundred years.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes, but his shoulders relaxed minutely. Good. He needed it. Thankfully Sokka had a distraction prepared. 

“Okay. Okay. Okay. Are you ready?” he began vibrating with excitement but also some very real anxiety.

Zuko looked like he was caught somewhere between bemused and afraid, eyeing Sokka with suspicion. “Ready for…what exactly?”

“A surprise!” 

“A surprise?”

“Remember when I said you wouldn’t be- _leaf_ I was the same barista next time? Well go ahead and order some tea!” 

The intensity of Sokka’s beam was inversely proportionate to how confident he was about this dumb gesture working out the way he had planned. 

Zuko’s face screwed up involuntarily, his tongue remembering the betrayal of the hot leaf juice of last week. “I don’t…I mean, I can have a muffin?” 

Time to bring out the big guns - puppy dog eyes. “Come oooonnnn…a surprise for my worst customer!” 

Despite Sokka’s care to make it clear he was joking, Zuko winced at the reminder of his snappishness (not for the first time). “Sorry about th—" he began, but Sokka waved his apology away impatiently, still beaming expectantly. Zuko sighed. 

“May I please have some tea, Sokka,” he said indulgently, unable to keep the small smile off his face at the other’s antics. 

“Yes, you may!!! Sit! Wait! Give me, like, 3 and a half minutes!!!” Sokka exclaimed, turning away to the other side of the counter secretively. 

Zuko rolled his eyes affectionately, not at all internally panicking at how easily Sokka had willed him to do his (potentially poisonous) bidding just by batting his lashes. 

It was only a couple minutes before the air between them began to fill with the sweet, slightly spicy scent of cinnamon, and the hot steam of…fresh tea? Zuko's stomach growled embarrassingly. Almost as a call and response, the microwave dinged, and the fruity vanilla of some baked good joined the cloud of delicious smells. 

It had been embarrassingly long since Zuko last ate, and much longer since he had the time to brew himself a decent cup of tea. The last time someone had smiled at him had been when he last saw Uncle, months ago, outside the city. So when Zuko saw the sight before him, he knew he was in deep trouble. 

Sokka was before him, smiling in a way that Zuko wouldn’t have thought he was capable of. Small, sweet and…shy? It suited him. And as if that weren’t enough, he was holding a mug of hot, but not boiling, perfectly steeped cinnamon tea with a fresh cinnamon stick peeking out over the lip of the blue cup. In his other hand was a huge blueberry muffin - warm and inviting. Zuko was going to die. Zuko was going to marry this man. He might be in love. Could you really blame him?

And unfortunately, for all Zuko's shyness and attempts at coldness and coolness, he’d never been good at hiding his emotions. So he stood there with his mouth gaping slightly and his heart eyes and _obviously_ Sokka noticed, his shy smile returning to its previous mega-watt beam (this time, unmarred by anxiety). 

Plan Cinnamon Toast Crush was a success, Sokka thought. He just barely stopped himself from fist-pumping at the adorable look on Zuko’s face. He had been afraid that he would find the gesture weird, or _too much_ (Sokka was the captain of too much). But there was no mistaking things. The 8 dollars he spent on the fancy tea and fresh cinnamon were _definitely_ worth it. He set down the tea and muffin carefully before an incredulous Zuko. 

“You— wait. How? _When? Cinnamon tea?"_

 _“_ Well, as a businessperson, you should understand supply and demand,” Sokka smirked. 

“You did this for the business, really?” Now it was Zuko’s turn to smirk as he gestured to the afterthought “Tea” section on the chalkboard behind Sokka. Cinnamon tea was clearly an off the menu treat. 

Sokka spluttered only a little before shifting back into Smooth Mode — “Well, you know, anything for my worst customer.” The shy smile returning, he added: “Try it.” 

Zuko took a sip, barely taking his eyes off the barista as he blew the steam away. His eyes fluttered shut as soon as he tasted it. The sweet, spicy tea warmed every part of him, down to his sneakered feet and up to his flushed cheeks. Parts of him that had been cold for a very long time were beginning to melt under the cinnamon tea and the smile of the man that made it. 

For once in his life, Zuko managed to quash his instinct to run screaming from the simple pleasure of good tea and better company. To quiet the voices berating him for getting emotional over what was probably not even a deal to the barista. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to, do anything but smile at Sokka, warm and sweet as the tea. His face felt weird. 

Sokka had braced himself for maybe a theatrical moan like they described in the romance novels he secretly skimmed through sometimes. But Zuko’s smile - warm and open - was much more intimate. He wasn't complaining. To distract himself from the increasingly serious melting of his heart, Sokka returned the smile with one of his own and pushed the muffin forward. 

Zuko was the one, surprisingly, to break the comfortable silence between bites of muffin “Sokka. It’s. The tea is _incredible_ …thank you, really.” 

“Anytime.” It sounded like a promise, and Sokka meant it as one. 

Zuko frowned. How was he ever going to convey to Sokka how much this one kindness had meant? He was awfully ineloquent and as opposed to charming and extroverted as one could get without being a literal bridge troll. After floundering for a few seconds, he knew. 

“Ugh. I can’t believe I’m going to do this. Sokka.” Zuko buried his face in his hands (warm from holding the steaming mug), his tone painfully serious. 

Oh my god. Was Zuko going to declare his love for him?? Sokka began panicking. It was a little soon, a _lot_ soon probably, but he could work with it. He was so busy turning the wheels that he almost missed the most glorious moment of his life. 

“You were right. I can’t be- _leaf_ you’re the same barista,” Zuko said begrudgingly, rolling his eyes all the while. 

This was so much better than a declaration of love. How did Zuko know that being told he was right and stupid puns were Sokka’s two biggest turn-ons?

Sokka’s face split into a maniacal grin before he dissolved into fake, dramatic tears. “ZUKO! You’re making me cry over here, man!” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it.” 

“Want another muffin? I’m assuming you haven’t eaten dinner Mr. Suitman.”

“Mr Suitman? Really, that’s the one you went with? Also yes, please, god, if you tell me you baked these, I’ll…I’ll.” 

Sokka smirked, leaning forward. “You’ll what?” 

Zuko flushed and ducked his head down to his tea. 

“Well, lucky for you, _Mr Suitman,_ Aang, our resident baking wizard baked these. Starbucks has been trying to kidnap him for years.” 

“I want to kidnap him.” 

“Oh dude, I would _not_ try that. Katara is scary.” 

Zuko made a small noise of confusion, his mouth too full of chocolate chip muffin to manage much more. 

“My sister. She’s dating Aang. She owns the place.” 

“I know a thing or two about scary sisters, haha,” Zuko said drily. 

Seeing a cloud beginning to form over Zuko’s features as family came up, Sokka gently turned the conversation away, noting the detail for the future (future?!). 

“So what made you come back? I’m guessing it wasn’t the tea,” Sokka said with a self-satisfied grin, as though he hadn’t been languishing in uncertain despair over said return all week. 

Normally, Zuko would have used his genius diversion tactics of either ignoring the question or just sprinting away. Maybe it was the very late hour, or the calming effect of the tea, or the fact that he had voluntarily spoken about his family for the first time in recent memory, but Zuko found himself answering honestly. 

“You were nice. That is — it was nice talking to you. And this place seems…nice?” Zuko cringed internally — he had Shakespeare memorised but had used nice thrice in a row. This is why he didn't go outside. 

“Well, you could use some nice,” Sokka said calmly, as though he wasn’t fighting a mental battle not to creep out the other man by holding his hands or asking him out or squishing his cheeks. 

The soft, but intense eye contact that ensued was not at all awkward and shattered far too soon by the angry vibrations of Zuko’s phone. Both their faces fell. 

“I should…It’s probably work.” Zuko shrugged apologetically, the smile leaving his face without a trace. 

“Yeah. Hey listen,” Sokka placed his hand over Zuko’s pale fingers, “Take care. Don’t die of work or something before you come back.” 

Zuko looked down at his hand incredulously, golden eyes flitting between Sokka’s face and their hands, before regaining his smile. 

“I’ll try not to. I’ll be back soon, Sokka. For the muffins.” 

Sokka grinned. “For the muffins.” 

With that, Zuko left, using his phone with his left hand, the one that didn’t have a little ink on it from where Sokka had laid his hand. 

Another 20 dollars slipped into the tip jar that he wouldn't notice till much later, better tea leaves, and another promise to return. Sokka could live with this particular interruption to his revision.

Friday seemed so long away. 


End file.
